


Sing Me To Sleep

by Marasa



Category: Deadly Class (Comics), Deadly Class (TV), deadly class
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Napping, lots of emotions, lots of sleep, soft, soft boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Or six times Marcus fell asleep on someone and one time he couldn’t





	1. Saya

Saya finds him in an alleyway.

Marcus is curled up on the dirty ground beside a laundromat vent. His head rests on his hand. His brow is furrowed in deep discomfort.

She approaches him silently. 

“Being vulnerable like this in front of others can get you killed.”

Marcus peeks an eye open but does not startle; he’s been expecting her. 

“I’m counting on you not killing me,” he says.

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my friend.”

“Even more reason,” she jokes. 

But Saya doesn’t reach for her katana. Instead, she sits down by his head and leans back against the brick wall. The cold bleeds through her back and through her legs. Just when it’s almost too much, the vent kicks back on and pumps out a current of warm air smelling of fabric softener. 

She wonders how often he had to do this before she found him. Long cold nights curled up without anyone but himself, just him against the world.

He’s acting like that’s still the case.

“Why do you do this?” Saya asks. “You have a perfectly good bed at King’s Dominion. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

Marcus murmurs something. Saya tells him to speak up.

“It’s just familiar, I guess.”

“That’s a stupid reason.”

Marcus actually laughs. Saya smiles with him. The atmosphere quiets comfortably as she cards her fingers through his curls.

His once harsh expression melts into one of incredible softness, and Saya knows this is dangerous, this display of vulnerability, but Marcus embodies the philosophy that there’s a time to fight and there’s a time to let one’s guard down, especially while in the company of friends.

Saya guesses they’re friends.

Surprisingly, that doesn’t sound too stupid. 

She guides Marcus’ head onto her lap.

This isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. She’s sure if anyone knew that  _ the  _ Saya was soft for a Rat like Marcus, they’d most likely keel over. 

Marcus looks so tired. He has that pathetic, dampened expression of exhaustion on his face, gathered mainly beneath his eyes in dark circles. There’s a scratch on his hairline freshly scabbed over. The borders of the purple bruise on his brow is dull yellow. 

He yawns. 

“Tired?” Saya asks as she pushes the curls off his forehead, her manicured nails scratching lightly against his scalp. 

“‘s so loud at school,” he mumbles. “They don’t let me sleep. Fuckers are always fucking with me.”

Saya smirks because she was new once. She understands just how annoying the constant pestering gets. She traces his bruise with a light touch as to not bring him pain, because as long as he’s here with her, he’s safe. 

“Sometimes it gets too much,” he murmurs. “At  least I know I fit in out here. Some days I don’t know if I fit in at school at all.”

Saya frowns. She gets it; it doesn’t matter her lineage or innate ability, of course there are days when she doesn’t feel adequate.

The feeling sucks. She can see it in every inch of Marcus’ face. 

“You fit,” Saya says sincerely. “If you didn’t, we wouldn’t waste our time with you.”

Marcus smiles, the corner of his mouth subtly twitching like he’s fighting the thought of tears. But none form, none fall; he instead falls into the rhythm of Saya’s fingers through his hair and begins to nod off as warm air engulfs them and shields them from the cold.


	2. Willie

They listen to music on the car ride to their next assignment.

Marcus flips through Willie’s CD collection in the passenger seat while Willie insists the superiority of The Beatles over The Rolling Stones.

“I don’t know, I think you can enjoy them both,” Marcus has the mistake of saying.

Willie nearly slams on the brakes again.

“Like them both?” he says. “We’re not talking about liking them both. We’re talking about which is more important in musical history, Marcus.”

Marcus yawns.

“What the fuck are you yawning for? Am I putting you to sleep?”

Marcus doesn’t take the bait but shakes his head, closes the book of CDs and leans back in his chair. 

“Woke up early and it’s really late now.”

Willie nods and drops it.

The hum of the engine through the soft crooning of the radio is soothing. The wind outside is cold but the heater in the car works perfectly well. The moon hangs high above the tops of buildings serenely.

“Where we going?” Marcus’ voice is notably groggy after a few minutes of silence. 

“Around,” Willie says. “Just gotta keep an eye out for a mugger or something.”

“Someone who deserves it,” Marcus says through another yawn. 

“Should be easy.” 

But tonight, it’s not. The city is on surprisingly good behavior and a quick one hundred on this homework assignment is suddenly out the door. 

Willie doesn’t mind driving around. It clears his head. He doesn’t mind the company either, never mind the fact Marcus hasn’t said anything in ten minutes.

The car crawls to a stop at a red light. 

Willie looks to his right.

Marcus is turned toward him in his seat. His chair is at a slight incline. His knees are pulled up but his feet remain off the seat, perhaps a subconscious effort knowing what Willie will do to him if he gets dirt on the upholstery. 

Lips parted, face lax, Marcus sleeps quietly in the passenger seat. 

The light turns green. 

Willie eases gently on the gas.

He murmurs along with the radio and thrums his fingers against the steering wheel as he cruises down dimly lit streets uncharacteristically absent of crime.  

Willie’s mind wanders and he’s thinking about another album, another song, another argument of the musical variety, but Marcus is mumbling in his sleep and Willie makes a mental note to argue with him about the best album of ‘84 later. 

After a whole fifteen minutes of nothing, Willie gives up the dreaded search and pulls into a quiet parking garage. He drives up to the top level and parks the car. 

The city is a cluster of pinpoint light of every dazzling color below them. Every distant streetlight twinkles like stars. 

Willie prefers this infinitely more than doing stupid homework. 

That shit isn’t for him anyway. 

Marcus was the one who told him to not give a fuck about what anyone thought. Willie was a pacifist and according to Marcus, there was no shame in being yourself.

Maybe Marcus was the piece they were all missing.

No, not ‘missing’- forgot.

Compassion. Honesty. Vulnerability.

Willie turns the heat on a little higher. He sheds his coat and finds more use for it draped over the other boy’s shoulders than on the floor. 

Marcus’ nose is hidden under the collar. He doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up anytime soon.

“Comfortable motherfucker,” Willie tsks with a shake of his head.

He changes the current rock CD for one much more slow and dreamy because really, who the fuck cares about appearance or homework or any of that shit. 

Willie smiles, content to look over the sparkling city and enjoy the music. 


	3. Lex

Lex’s ears are still buzzing from the punk concert just played in the living room below. 

He doesn’t know whose house this is or who any of these people are, just saw a poster on an alley wall for a shitty house concert when he went out for pizza a day ago.

Lex hadn’t expected Marcus to want to come but who was he to deny the new Rat the grating pleasure of live punk music?

As soon as the last song ends and the band is packing up, the pair make a uniform decision to sleep it off here and leave in the morning. 

Both Marcus and Lex are wary of sleeping in the company of strangers so they fuck off upstairs to a quiet bedroom at the end of the hall. Thankfully there’s a lock on the door.

“No, no, no,” Lex barks, but Marcus is already curled up on top of the twin-sized bed.

He kind of thought he’d get first dibs and then he thinks that was a fucking stupid assumption. Lex doesn’t have the energy to fight about it so he kicks off his combat boots and grumbles a series of curses.

Lex slides onto the bed beside Marcus. It’s a close fit but not that bad. Lex will definitely not be sleeping in his preferred sleeping position of ‘starfish’ tonight. 

“At least turn over, you wanker,” Lex hisses at Marcus, who is on his side, facing him. “Don’t want to be smelling your beer breath all fucking night.”

Marcus smiles, his eyes closed. “I chewed gum.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lex says, then, “Where’d you get gum?”

“A pretty girl gave it to me.”

“Lying cunt.”

“Honest.”

“What kind?”

“Cinnamon.”

“Lemme smell.”

Marcus blows a breath of air against Lex’s face and yeah, it does smell a bit spicy beneath the initial wave of stale alcohol.

“Now shut up,” Marcus hisses back, “I wanna sleep.”

Lex does shut up and takes to replaying the highlights of the night in his head. He ultimately decides that he had a really great time. 

The music wasn’t too bad. The pizza was good. He didn’t get in any fights, so that’s a plus.

And Marcus was actually cool to hang out with. He was moshing pretty hard for a while there, pushing and being pushed, all with a huge smile on his face.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Marcus smile so much.

Lex looks down at the feeling of Marcus resting a hand atop his. 

The touch quells any anxiety Lex has of being in an unfamiliar place, a worry he’s had for a while but never voiced. He doesn’t feel like he has to as long as he and Marcus are here together because they’re Rats and Rats get each other. 

Lex turns his hand over so their palms are pressed together. Marcus lets his fingers fall in the spaces between Lex’s. 

Lex’s father used to beat him for being weak.

Holding hands doesn’t feel weak with Marcus for some reason. It doesn’t feel extraordinarily strong either. It just...is. 

It feels private, like who the fuck cares, it’s their business. It feels more like a whisper or a brief smile. 

It tethers him to this moment right now. 

Their fingers intertwine.

“Aren’t you a sad sack of shit,” Lex murmurs, begrudgingly conscious of the fact the fucker’s finally fallen asleep.

Lex’s thumb strokes the top of Marcus’ absently as he looks up at the ceiling and thinks about how he used to be like him, how he is still like him.

He was scared as shit to be at King’s Dominion. 

He’s still scared.

What was worse than a Rat but a Rat parading as something else?

Lex sometimes feels like a fraud. Marcus is authentic.

His painted fingernail follows a faint scar on Marcus’ thumb. He catches whiffs of cinnamon every now and then. When there’s a soft squeeze of his fingers, Lex squeezes back twice as gentle. 

A guy like Marcus should have angered him to no end but all Lex could manage to feel was admiration and a deep respect at his unapologetic bravery to be himself. 

He would never admit this aloud, though.

Lex says nothing when Marcus snores lightly and tugs their joined hands closer to his heart. 


	4. Billy

The weather is nice come evening, so they hang out on the roof. 

Billy’s comic book is open on his lap. He shields the flame of his lighter from the wind as he lights the joint in his mouth. 

Marcus takes a sip from a glass bottle of soda. 

Billy takes a deep drag from the blunt. 

They switch.

“Damn, where’d you get this?” Marcus says through a breath of smoke. 

“The Hessians,” Billy says and then burps. “You should play DnD with us sometime.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” Marcus turns back to his sketchbook in his lap. “I’m not a complete nerd.”

Billy scoffs. “Yeah, totally. It’s not like you love comic books and don’t have a girlfriend-“

“Or boyfriend,” Marcus says.

“-and it’s not like you're always playing video games. Marcus Lopez, a nerd? Never!”

“All right,” Marcus says in a deep and stupid voice, smiling despite himself, “maybe I’ll play one game.” 

The sun has mostly set behind the buildings ahead of them. The dark blue sky begins to darken into a bruised purple. Each passing minute, the moon begins to glow more brightly above them. 

“Man I wish we could be up here more often,” Billy muses. “But we gotta go to stupid assassin school.”

Marcus brushes eraser shavings off his sketchbook page. “Such is life for us disgruntled youth.” 

“We’re gonna change the world.”

“Let’s nap first, though.”

Billy sighs dramatically. “I guess.”

Marcus closes his sketchbook and sets it aside. He stretches. He sighs and rests his head on Billy’s shoulder. 

There was a time when Billy would draw on the newbies’ faces but the thought never occurred to him to do the same with Marcus.

Rat or not, they just...clicked.

Billy thinks it’s crazy that he met Marcus; he wants to say it’s because he’s cool and genuinely compassionate but there’s something more to him than can’t be explained.

Billy thinks of it like this: he’s glad to have met a person who laughs with him like they’ve known each other all their lives, listens to his worries and doesn’t make fun of him, shares the same music and comic interests, shares clothes and food with him, doesn’t mind sparring rough and ends the day by resting his head on his shoulder. 

Whatever that feeling is, Billy’s glad to feel it.

His train of thought is derailed by a few airy words muttered beside him.

Marcus talks in his sleep sometimes. 

He’s mumbling now, a soft and breathy whisper against Billy’s shoulder. Billy has no idea what he’s saying but he humors him, answering back a few times with a, ‘Huh? Really? Now way, dude.’ 

He snickers quietly when Marcus subconsciously answers him with his perfectly-timed, incoherent rambling.

“All right, shh,” Billy whispers with a hand lightly patting Marcus’ forearm. “You talk too much. And that’s saying something coming from me.”

Marcus quiets at the sound of Billy’s voice. He sighs in his sleep. An air of contentedness surrounds the both of them. 

Billy’s looking forward to spending summer with Marcus and the other Rats. He can imagine going to the beach during the day, sitting in diners late at night, go to a couple shows, smoke more than a few blunts.

Billy rests his head on Marcus’. 

This is all he’s ever wanted: friends, family. 

He would die for every one of them. 

And when Marcus leans further into Billy’s side, he thinks finally belonging is all Marcus has ever wanted, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marcus is bi. That is all.


	5. Petra

Petra’s relaxing on the couch when Marcus shuffles into the doorway of the commons.

He should be dressed and gone to class already but he looks a little miserable and she understands what’s going on as soon as he sniffs his nose disgustingly.

“Gross,” she says and clicks a button on the remote to change the channel from the dreary news to MTV. 

Petra can see in her periphery the Rat shuffle smoothly across the floor toward her on a pair of ankle socks. She remains laying on her back but moves over a little to make room for him; she was here first. 

Marcus unceremoniously slides in between her and the back of the couch. 

He wears his King’s Dominion hoodie over an oversized band t-shirt. The legs of his baggy pair of plaid pajama pants cover the tops of his socked feet. He’s warm and soft against her left side as he presses his cheek against her arm. 

She’s noticed this pattern with him. Whenever Marcus is sick, he goes to her. Never does he request she look after him or nurse him back to health, but simply asks to watch television with her and cuddle.

Well, neither of them use the word ‘cuddle,’ but it certainly looks that way. 

“Are you stayin’ home today?” Marcus’ stuffy, mumbled words are warm against her skin.

“I don’t have class on Friday for the rest of the month,” Petra says. “Throwing knife fuck up. Lin’s gotta find a replacement teacher.”

Marcus hums and nestles closer, turning his face for a second to push his cold nose against her arm. His weight against her side isn’t as uncomfortable as it would seem. 

It’s something solid, something comforting, something welcome. 

Petra resents her secret desire for normalcy but during times like this, that itch is scratched. The proximity, the sleepy flutter of eyelashes against her bicep, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed against her; this feels like what friends do, what close friends do. 

It gets lonely sometimes putting up a front of apathy but the second someone she cares about is snuggled close to her side, she doesn’t feel so alone.

Petra does not voice her feelings or thankfulness but pulls the blanket up to Marcus’ shoulders and decides he knows her well enough now to get what she means. 

Music videos come and go on the television screen. Petra and Marcus’ legs tangle together loosely under the blanket warmed by Marcus’ low fever. His fingers twitch where they rest on Petra’s arm. A bit of drool gathers at the corner of his open mouth but Petra lets him sleep. 

Another music video starts and Petra places her fingers over Marcus‘.

She really likes this song. 


	6. Maria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations at the bottom of the page.

Maria finds out what happened after lunch.

Apparently Marcus hadn’t properly dodged an incoming sword attack and suffered a lash to the thigh. 

Some kids are laughing about it in the hall. She glowers at them as she passes. They shut up. 

She finds him in his room, curled up on his bed. His right leg wrapped liberally in beige gauze rests atop the comforter. 

“ _ Cariño.” _

Marcus startles fully awake from his dozing. He turns his head to look at her with a goofy smile like what has happened isn’t a big deal at all. 

“Ten stitches,” he says as Maria comes over to stand by his bedside. “Most I’ve ever had in one go.”

She traces the gauze with her finger incredibly light. 

“It'll scar,” Maria murmurs, imagining the hurt underneath.

Marcus just shrugs, smiles. “Another one for the collection.”

Maria doesn’t smile. She doesn’t think it’s very funny. She doesn’t like that he’s suffered so much in his life because she herself has and she knows how terrible it is.

“ _ ¿Cómo estás? En serio.”  _

She speaks Spanish with him occasionally. Marcus likes speaking Spanish, says it brings back good memories, although he said it had been so long since he spoke it that he almost forgot it all. Maria had been there to help remind him of certain words and tricky conjugations. 

It didn’t take long before Marcus was speaking well again, a jovial glint in his eyes whenever he spoke the language of his father.

“ _ ¿En serio?”  _ Marcus asks. 

“Sí,”  Maria says, still wearing her concern on her face. 

It melts away the second Marcus yawns, wide and loud before flopping his head back down on his pillow.

“ _ Estoy cansado.” _

Maria smirks, realizing it would take a lot more than an injury like this to finish the Rat. 

“ _ ¿Estás cansado todo el tiempo, verdad?” _ she says.

“No,” Marcus says then yawns again. 

Maria laughs lightly. Upon feeling the dip of the bed as she sits down behind him, Marcus reaches blindly behind himself until he finds her wrist. 

He tugs so so gently, a soft invitation. 

Maria smiles softly as she lays down.

She suspects that Marcus likes being the little spoon even though he’s never outright admitted it. She’s found him like this with Saya plenty of times, has found him in Lex’s bed too, his back to their chests, their arms around him, their noses in his hair.

Maria plasters herself against his back. She can smell faintly the sweat of the day in his hair but more than that can smell strawberry body wash radiating from his neck down to his shoulders.

Her hand rests on his chest, holding him to her. She can feel his heart thrumming steadily against her palm. 

This feeling is something Maria has never felt with Chico or any guy. Maybe she’s felt something close to this with Saya. It’s a little different with Marcus. 

It’s something quiet and careful; a warm body, a beating heart, a hushed whisper when they decide to speak at all. This transcends youthful infatuation. It’s more important than that, more serious. 

Maria knows some of his pain, Marcus knows some of hers. Laying together like this erases all of the worries outside of this time right now. It’s just him and her and it just really feels good to have someone close.

Maria’s own eyes begin to grow heavier. The movement of Marcus’ chest is rhythmic under her hand. 

“ _ ¿Cantar?” _ Marcus mumbles, tongue lax because of how close to sleep he is. 

Maria hums.  _ “Qué,  _ baby?”

“Sing? It’ll help me sleep.”

Maria’s thumb strokes his sternum as she begins to murmurs quiet words in Spanish of a lullaby she barely remembers from her childhood. 

It takes her back to a simpler time, a better time before all of this shit. It makes her miss home but sharing it with a close friend gives it a slightly new meaning. 

In every soothing word she croons against the back of Marcus’ neck is a strengthening of their trust, a certain safety, an intimate privacy.

Marcus holds his hand over hers on his chest. 

He drifts off to sleep but Maria continues singing long after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cariño- darling
> 
> ¿Cómo estás? En serio. - How are you? Seriously.
> 
> Estoy cansado. - I’m tired.
> 
> ¿Estas cansado todo el tiempo, verdad?- You’re tired all the time, right?


	7. Marcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s longer than the others. I hope you enjoy!

Marcus keeps having that dream.

It’s more of a nightmare.

He’s back at the orphanage. Those fuckers are chasing him, screaming, mutating into monsters that reach out with long claws to tear at his scarred body. 

They want to kill him.

They want to consume him completely. 

Marcus wakes gasping. His shirt is drenched with sweat. He’s shaking so hard one might think the room’s temperature is below zero.

“You okay, Marcus?”

Shabnam is half-sitting up and blinking groggily in his direction. 

Marcus swallows, nods. 

He does not return to sleep but remains sitting up in bed, biting his nails and fidgeting. 

Sleep does not come that night. It doesn’t come the next three nights either. 

On the fourth day of no sleep, Marcus finds himself in Master Lin’s office with a group of his closest friends. The headmaster informs them that they have a unique assignment in another city. 

They will stay at a designated safe house. They will kill a former student gone rogue. 

Master Lin looks Marcus up and down where he’s wobbling on his feet. Lin looks to Saya but does not say anything about her pledge’s ragged appearance. The weight of his gaze suggests to her, though,  _ ‘He’s your responsibility.’ _

They pack up and roll out at eight am the next morning. Willie drives. Marcus insists on sitting in the front seat. 

He looks in the rear view mirror and sees Petra, Billy and Lex in the very back, squished but comfortable. Petra’s legs are over Billy’s. Billy leans into Lex’s side while Lex stretches his arm over Billy’s shoulders on the back of the seat. 

Marcus knows that if he were back there, the touch and proximity would have him falling asleep immediately.

He’s not ready yet. He can’t handle the torture of those fucking memories of the past, can’t stand the way they warp into something more dangerous.

Lex says something and the three in the very back laugh. Marcus averts his eyes from the scene.

Marcus retrieves another cigarette from his pocket and lights it. He takes a drag so deep, the cigarette almost burns down to the filter.

“Damn, dude, you’ve almost smoked two packs today,” Willie says. 

“He’s stressed,” Maria says from the seat behind him, a smile in her tone.

Suddenly her hands are on his shoulders. Marcus is glad the road is loud because he actually whimpers at the feeling of her thumbs massaging his sore shoulders in soothing circles. 

_ “Dios mío,”  _ Maria says, now sounding serious. “You’re really tense, Marcus.”

And he knows, he fucking knows. He hurts and he’s tired and he’s leaning forward and out of her grip even though it’s all he wants because he  _ cannot  _ allow himself to fall asleep.

The nightmares like wolves wait at the corners of his mind for his guard to drop. 

They’re not fucking dropping yet.

Marcus turns on the radio. He inserts a CD from Billy’s collection stored in the dashboard. At the first sound of screaming punk music, he turns it all the way up.

“I don’t like this shit,” Saya says. “Turn it down.”

“I like it.”

The back row doesn’t seem to mind; Lex and Billy are hopping in their seats. Petra rolls her eyes.

After two hours, they decide to stop for gas and snacks. After two hours, Marcus is feeling even more like complete shit. 

They all get out of the car to stretch their legs. Marcus has to use the exterior of the car to stand. 

Lex stands close to him. Marcus wants to reach out and hold his hand because he’s feeling really dizzy and he doesn’t want to float away or fall out. 

“Oi!”

Marcus blinks as his forehead lightly bumps Lex’s. Lex has a grip on both of Marcus’ biceps to hold him upright. 

He must have lost his balance for a moment.

Marcus shakes himself and stands up straight. He takes a shaky step back and away from the comforting touch that wants to guide him to sleep.

A feeling of alienation runs through him. Marcus feels distant. Unwanted. 

“Don’t,” he says with a lick of his chapped lips and a slow blink, “don’t touch me.”

Lex furrows his brow. “You were the one falling into me!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever nothing, you bloody cunt!”

Marcus waves him off as he sways heavily on his feet. He got pissy when he was tired but this is beyond that. It feels like he’s drugged up on something shitty and cheap. He feels irritated enough to want to fight everyone even though he could barely stand up or know what’s really happening.

He doesn’t even notice that all of them are back in the car until Willie puts up the gas nozzle and rounds the side of the car.

“Marcus, you good?” Willie says with an unsure look. When he doesn’t get a real answer, Willie steps closer. 

Marcus plants a hand on Willie’s chest when he gets too close. He pushes him back weakly. Marcus snarls his lip and he really doesn’t know why he’s mad or what he’s doing anymore.

He doesn’t feel good.

He wants to be okay again.

He wants this to end. 

“I don’t need anyone,” Marcus slurs. “I’m fine.”

Willie looks down to where Marcus touched him. When he looks back up, his concern has been replaced with acute irritation.

“If you don’t need anyone,” Willie says, “then you can find a ride back to California by yourself.”

Willie gets in the driver’s seat, leaving Marcus standing by the gas pump dumbly. He can’t see the others through the tinted windows but he’s sure they’re all staring at him.

The car starts to drive off a few yards out of the gas station and a little up the dusty main road. Willie thankfully pulls the car over to the side of the road not too far away.

Panicked, Marcus runs after it clumsily. 

The passenger window is cracked only an inch. 

“Open the door,” Marcus pants.

“You gonna act right?”

Marcus clenches his jaw. He bares his teeth. His furious reflection in the glass is frightening. 

“Open the fucking door!”

The wheels spiral against the dirt. Rock and dust go flying as the car accelerates a few more yards ahead. 

Marcus whines as he jogs half-assedly after it. 

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he says. “Please open the door.”

The sun is hot and his head is spinning and Marcus leans against the door for support, an expression of both physical and mental hurt dancing across his features. 

“Please,” he whimpers and he doesn’t have enough energy to hate the way it sounds like he’s begging.

The door unlocks.

Marcus falls inside. He shuts the door, puts his elbow on the armrest and hides his face in his hand.

No one speaks as the car begins its trajectory to the city. The air is tense. Marcus can’t stomach to look at any of them; the guilt is nearly overwhelming. 

His breathing gets a little strained the more he thinks about his previous behavior. He’s angry again but this time at himself. 

They don’t deserve to be treated like that. 

Maybe they should have left him behind back there. He probably deserves it. Everyone leaves him eventually, it’s only a matter of time. 

Marcus’ chin quivers but he refuses to cry. He feels like a complete mess and fuckup.

He feels like he’s falling apart. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He clears his throat, sits up straighter in his chair but keeps his eyes on his lap. “I’m sorry I acted like a dick back there. That was uncalled for and… so fucking stupid. I’m not proud of myself. I’m embarrassed and upset that I treated you all that way. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Billy says after a brief moment of silence. “We all have our moments. I’m sure we’ll all have the chance to show our asses before this trip’s over.”

“I’m sorry, Willie,” Marcus mumbles.

“It’s fine, man.”

“I’m sorry, Lex.”

“‘s all right.”

It’s mostly quiet for the rest of the forty-five minute car ride, nothing but the soft crooning of the radio. Marcus has to bite the inside of his cheek so it doesn’t lull him into sleep.

“This is the safe house?”

They all look at the address written on the paper given to them by Lin with the instruction to burn it as soon as they arrived. They look up. 

“It can’t be.”

“This is the address.”

A rinky dink shack sat between two large abandoned buildings. No windows and a rusted metal door, it is nondescript here on the edge of town but heavily weathered. 

It’s no hotel, not even a motel. 

It’s a box.

They grab their bags and move inside but Marcus is stuck in time behind them, only following when that hint of fear at being abandoned flares up within his chest. 

Halfway to the door, someone grabs his wrist. He whips his head to his left.

Saya is looking at him. Her voice reads annoyance but her face reads heavily concerned. 

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird all day. You look...terrible,” she says. “Are you on something that we don’t know about? Pills? Tell me what’s going on right now.”

Marcus pulls his hand from hers. “Stop.”

“You’re worrying me, Marcus.”

“I don’t- I-... Don’t worry about me. Please. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Do what?”

“Get wrapped up in my shit! I can handle it, I can, I can…”

He repeats this softly to himself like he’s trying to will himself to believe it. 

“Marcus, what are you talking about?”

“I need a smoke.”

Saya hesitates to leave him alone but ultimately understands his need for space. Marcus leans against the front of the shack sucking on yet another cigarette, alone. 

He feels guilty for making her worry. No one should have to worry about him. He’s the one who worries about  _ them _ . He’s the one who feels the need to protect _them_. 

Marcus is fine. 

God, he wishes he believed that.

When he goes inside after two more cigarettes and a period of reflection of how pathetic he is, he finds his friends getting ready for bed. 

There’s not a shower in their criminally small hideout so they all wash up in the kitchen sink. Saya lathers her hair with dish soap. Lex stands shirtless nearby scrubbing suds under his arms. Petra helps Billy wrap his hair up in a dish towel like hers. Maria and Willie brush their teeth. 

Marcus should probably do the same but he can’t find the energy. 

They roll out the sleeping bags they find in a nearby closet on the floor next to each other. They do not admit it is for preferred proximity but claim it to be an efficient battle strategy if they are attacked in the night.

The lights turn out. Marcus’ stomach twists.

An hour later and everyone’s fallen asleep. Marcus sits up against the wall still in his sleeping bag. His eyes drift across the room from empty shelves to tables, counters, the door.

His eyes scan the floor around him. 

In the dark he can see the girls curled up in their sleeping bags like caterpillars in cocoons. Their hair is still a little wet. Their makeup is off. 

Marcus thinks they’re beautiful. 

Lex sleeps shirtless. Billy’s mohawk is unstyled and limp after a brief wash but looks incredibly soft. Willie’s strong arms are up and folded under his head. 

All of them sleep without a worry. 

Marcus is suffering.

He pinches his arms, digs his fingers into his skin, pulls at his hair, does anything to keep himself awake and away from the terror that awaits him. 

Marcus is fighting, fighting… fight… fi...

His head drops forward.

Marcus wakes to the sound of his own screams.

It’s fucking jarring. He’s trembling outrageously. He feels sick to his stomach. Fat beads of sweat drip from under his arms and his mouth is dry and his cheeks are wet.

For a while after waking, he isn’t sure where he is.

Nightmare and reality blur together and he interprets the shadows surrounding him to be the ones who want to kill him. 

Someone moves on his left. Marcus recoils in a panic.

Saya holds her hands up. “Marcus,” she says slowly, “you’re safe. It’s us.”

Marcus stalls for a second. He looks around in shocked confusion. The six faces staring at him in the dark are not malicious but deeply worried. 

These six faces are familiar. 

Marcus feels the cursed prickle of fresh tears forming in his eyes. 

He turns back to Saya. He falls into her chest. 

Marcus surrenders completely. He allows himself to feel a mess and gives up on trying to ward these waves of intense emotion off. 

He feels filthy and confused and embarrassed and afraid and anxious and sad and weak and a million other disgusting things. 

The ones sitting up around him are quiet and unmoving, clearly in shock at his behavior. But when Marcus makes a series of strangled sounds of residual fear and panic, they throw all hesitance out the window and say ‘Fuck it,’ as they slide closer to him. 

Petra holds Marcus’ right hand in both of hers. Lex holds his left and tangles their calloused fingers together tightly. 

Saya is all he can see in front of him. He can feel Maria lean against his entire back. Billy guides Marcus’ legs into his lap and rubs his knee soothingly. Willie holds a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, firm and grounding.

“F- Fuck,” Marcus gasps through a series of harsh hiccups that jolt his entire body. “Sh- shit-“

“Shh,” Saya hushes, a hand now on the back of his head holding him to her. Marcus slams his mouth shut but continues his involuntary shaking.

Saya drops her head a little to whisper privately into his ear, “We’re right here, Marcus. You’re safe. We’re not going to let anyone hurt you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, then squeezes the hands in his. Saya runs a hand through his hair and he doesn’t even attempt to suppress the small whines that escape him. 

“You’re tired,” Saya says in final realization. 

Marcus heaves a dry sob against her. “ _ Exhausted _ .”

He feels a shift in those around him, something like a physical flex so subtle they might not have realized they were doing it. It’s like they’re preparing to protect him from physical harm, like they’re erecting a wall of muscle and bone around him to hide him from the world. 

There is no doubt in Marcus’ mind that they would fight to the death anyone who so much as looked in his direction right now. Thankfully, there’s no one here but them.

“N- Nightmares,” Marcus answers when Maria asks him softly why he hasn’t been sleeping. “The past. Shit I should be fucking over but  _ I’m not _ .”

The silence that follows highlights the shoddiness of his breath. It’s like they’re unsure if they should say anything.

Billy tries. 

“Well, we’re not going anywhere, dude,” Billy says quietly. “You can’t scare us off with your shit. You can talk to us about anything.”

“You’re a filthy Rat like us, darling,” Lex says with a soft smile and his thumb stroking Marcus’ scarred knuckles. “And Rats are pack animals. We look out for each other.”

“ _ No estás solo _ , Marcus,” Maria says. “You never were.”

“Whatever shit happens, we’re your backup,” Willie says. “That means out on the street and here in private. No question.”

“You don’t have to suffer in silence,” Petra insists. “That’s what we’re here for. We’re your friends.”

“We care about you, Marcus. We…” Saya clears her throat then exhales any reservation so she may reveal their shared truth. “We love you.” 

Marcus’ first instinct is to shake his head like it isn’t true, like it’s some elaborate method to manipulate him, like he doesn’t deserve it.

But there’s a murmur of agreement around him and Marcus chokes out a few sobs into Saya’s chest because those words mean so much more to him than they know because of the family and friends he’s lost.

These people around him feel like both. 

Marcus cries. They do not mock him.

Instead, they hold him, soothe him and let him weep his lingering frustration with the past, his remaining fear, the relief at finally being accepted, the amazement of being loved.

He wants to tell them it’s been so long, that he doesn’t remember what it feels like to be cared about, but he can’t form words.

Half of them might be legacies but they’re all acting like rats tonight with how they’re piled up with no room between them.

They all lay down and huddle close with no intention of ever leaving him, not even after he falls asleep. 

“Sleep,” Saya says. 

“You’re safe,” Billy says. 

“We got you,” Willie says.

They can feel every breath come from each other, every comfortable shift of tired muscles. Together they are a single organism.

Marcus is the first to fall asleep. He’s out in less than a minute after everything quiets. He snores with his mouth open and his body entirely lax, thoroughly passed out after so long awake. 

Despite the mildly obnoxious sound, his friends let him sleep.

And the few times throughout the night when he quiets abruptly or twitches, it’s like magic how one or two of them blink awake long enough to rub his arm, stroke his cheek or hold his hand until he’s returned back to deep sleep.

Marcus doesn’t dream that night.

And he’s more than fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your support! I really hope you liked this fic. I had a lot of fun writing it :)
> 
> If you want to send me prompts, see my shitty Deadly Class memes or just say hi, visit me on tumblr at @marasamoon


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